Post Script
by firedwarf
Summary: After Layton sees his beloved Claire for what really is the last time he returns to an empty house, only to be haunted by the gentle spirit that she left behind. Layton immerses himself in his memories and finds one last shred of comfort in a secret she had hidden right under, or should I say above, his nose.
1. Faded Photographs and Darkened Memories

Post Script

Chapter 1: Faded Photographs and Darkened Memories

Small bands of sunlight flooded in through the dust smeared windows. The warm, foggy glass was burdened with the ability to recreate memories, just by showing one lonely man his own sad, damaged reflection. Every minute detail of his room had a little of her soul clinging to it. He could feel her warm, passionate love fill each crevice and crack in the walls. He could hear her soft, melodious voice echo in the hallways and whisper with each footstep on the flooring. The Professor rose to his feet and walked purposefully to one of the many heavily crammed bookshelves. With one gentle fingertip outstretched, he stroked the crimson spine of a simple, leather bound book before grasping it and snatching it from its home on the shelf. Immediately, he opened the book to page 56, already aware of the makeshift bookmark that was protruding from the pages. Lying on the printed words was a small photograph of a beautiful woman, arm in arm, with a young man from an old time. Claire had used this picture in her haste to mark the place in a book she would never finish reading. Hershel knew that it had been there up on the shelf for years and never once felt inclined to open it, to look at it, to relive the memory, to revel in the proof that she did exist, that she was here, that she'd made a difference. Even if this was just a small difference like marking the place in one of his books, it still showed her intellect, her improvisation, her forgetfulness… her life.

The Professor gently held the photograph in front of him. The dazzling sunlight illuminated the beauty of Claire's glowing face as Layton held the flimsy, fading memory in his hands. Layton returned the painful picture to its resting place on the tear stained, dog eared page and gently closed the book. An empty space was conspicuously visible on his shelf but still he placed the text carefully on his weathered tea varnished desk. There the tome lay amongst crumpled up sketches and notations, etched hastily in order to convey the thousands of ideas regarding one man's life long research. Also littering the table top, were numerous unique and unusual artefacts including dusty, crumbling fossils and unrecognisable, but nonetheless resplendent, gem stones that had obviously been collected through years of travelling, due to a thirst for knowledge and a penchant for all things curious and puzzling.

The professor sighed, exhaling a little of his grief, only to consume it all again. He slowly meandered to his antique, 18th century armchair and collapsed into the robust, cushiony seat. While contemplating and reimbursing his everlasting fondness for old memories, his eyes meandered around the room until eventually they came to rest on his tall, silk hat, sitting uncomfortably and out of place on the coffee table, ironically adjacent to a small collection of dirty tea cups; for tea often helps when one is sad and Professor Layton couldn't describe nor handle the sadness he had experienced recently. For a painful, split second, he was inflicted with the brief, feeling one can describe as being like a torn part of your heart, peeling away, only to flutter, fall and crumble into the desolate acid of your stomach. Layton leaned over and outstretched both of his arms in order to seize his prized possession and clutch it to his chest. In his arms, Layton now held, what he believed to be, the only part of his darling Claire that he had left.

Before his final parting with Claire, the professor was occasionally tempted to remove his hat from his head. After a while, he felt that the hat was like a reminder of her death, a reminder that she was no longer with him. The hat was something hovering over him, a weight of grief towering above him, offering nothing but the memory of his beloved when instead he craved the sound of her sweet laughter and her warm, gentle touch. However, he neglected to take it off before he wanted to honour her last wish, fulfil her last request. The second time they said goodbye she simply asked him to "stay strong." Layton knew that this was impossible; so long as she was absent, he knew that he could never stay completely strong. He had removed the hat because he had accepted that he wasn't strong enough and that wearing the hat wouldn't bring her back. He knew that he could never live up to the gentlemanly image she had of him, but he spent his whole life trying, trying to be who she wanted him to be, trying to be a calm, collected, respectable human being . But the final goodbye broke his mask, his perfect façade, the removal of the hat revealed a broken man. Without his hat he was vulnerable, he was heartbroken, he had found his emotions with a few bitter tears but he had lost _her_ forever.

Chapter 2: Falling Asleep


	2. Falling Asleep

A few sharp, crystal coloured tears dribbled down the Professor's cheek as he closed his heavy eyelids, still clutching the hat like a small child clinging to a stuffed animal. His head slowly drooped to the side and a peaceful, comforting blanket of darkness surrounded him, keeping him safe and warm in the sheltered cocoon of his own mind. Small eruptions of colour began to appear around the spaces in his shadowy world and gentle dreams began to form in each crevice of his brain. A small image was distant but in front of his own closed eyes, slowly becoming closer and clearer until finally a sepia, rose tinted scene was being played in front of him. "Darling, you look exhausted," Hershel could hear Claire's soft voice weave in and out of his ears like the delicate threads of a tapestry. He could vaguely see himself lying back in the same 18th century, antique armchair with a stack of unmarked test papers on his lap and a red fountain pen between his fingertips. "I-I have to get these papers marked by tomorrow, dear, I've no time to be exhausted… it's my own fault really…" "It's your own fault for babysitting your Godson while your best friend's wife is in hospital?" queried Claire, carefully readjusting her glasses and capturing a stray strand of hair, pinning it behind her ear. "I could have marked the papers while you were feeding him or… while he was asleep…" replied the 'almost a professor', while stifling a yawn. "Hershel, you know that's barely enough time to mark hundreds of papers, Luke scarcely got any sleep last night and neither did we! And it wasn't like your average babysitting job, Brenda was in _hospital, _we were worried about her, it was a long night." "But if we're tired after one night of babysitting, how will we cope when we have a baby?" Hershel asked, only half realising what he had said after seeing Claire's expression. "When _we _have a baby?" repeated Claire, astonished. Hershel stayed nervously silent before deciding to be truthful, "Of course, don't you think about our future, Claire?" "A-all the time, Hershel!" exclaimed Claire, her tired eyes lighting up with pools of joy. At the mention of their future all the fatigue seemed to fall out of her. Claire slowly approached Hershel and knelt down beside him. "So, what else do you think about?" Claire's voice was almost a whisper now. "Oh, more than you could… imagine…" Hershel's sentence was interrupted with a long, stretched yawn. "Tell me in the morning, dear" Claire smiled. She draped a warm, woollen blanket over him and tenderly kissed the stressed lines on his forehead. "You get some sleep and I will too, those papers will keep one more day" Claire walked over to the door and her eyes met with his. "Thank you, my angel, I-I," Hershel yawned again, "I love you" and with those last, sweet words, Hershel's eyelids delicately closed. "I love you too, Hershel." Claire flicked off the light switch and looked back at him sleeping. "Goodnight, my darling" she whispered and she left the room without another sound.


	3. Always With Him

Chapter 3: Always With Him

Layton woke with a sharp gasp of crisp, cold oxygen and lunged forward. He surveyed the room. "Claire?" he called, rising out of his chair; the top hat that was once lying peacefully on his lap, toppled to the ground. Everything rushed back at the image of the hat crashing onto the floor. The same painful memory flashed in front of him a thousand times in a matter of seconds and the bitter, lonely, cruel reality of the world set in, like a grey, cold concrete slab, with the image of a dying angel carved into it and a name and a date too. He ran to the light switch, he ran to the door, he caressed the spot on his forehead where she used to kiss him, he fell to his knees. Pain was encrusted into his heart; it pumped sadness and depression through his veins. Hershel crawled to the hat lying sidewise on the floor, but something was different. Something small and faded and peeling was definitely visible. Layton grasped the hat once more and inspected its lining. Sure enough, an aged envelope was protruding from the inside of the hat; a message had been sewn into the lining! Layton curiously contorted his face and reached into the hat as if reaching into a treasure chest or a pot found at the end of a rainbow. He tugged eagerly but gently at the letter and finally freed it from its hiding place. As he turned the envelope over his stomach did the same, until that is, he observed the dainty, delicate script of none other than his beloved. At that point his stomach seemed to fold into the tiniest square, squashed into nothing but a minimal cube, contorted and pressed so tightly with feelings of anxiety and wonder. A single teardrop landed onto the tiny letters spelling "Hershel", his own name in his hands, his own name had never felt so worthy or important. Layton ripped the envelope open desperately and snatched the sacred message from inside and read.


	4. the Red Letter

((Before I start this chapter I would just like to thank you all for your lovely reviews and it's your positive feedback that keeps me writing Fanfiction in the first place. Feedback is always appreciated, thank you! –Firedwarf))

_Dearest Hershel,_

_I told you not to take it off! Your loving girlfriend, who would do anything for you, asks you to fulfil one simple wish and you completely disregard her? Alright, I'm going to be honest with you, I am glad that you took the hat off, for I don't even think the brilliant mind of 'Professor Layton' could have found a letter sewn into the lining of a hat without taking it off first. _

_Why am I writing this in the first place you wonder? Well, it worked the first time, although probably not in the way I would have expected it to, but nevertheless it worked; well, we're together aren't we? True, we're not in the same room at the same time but- I'll stop being pedantic and get to the point. _

_For my True Gentleman of a Boyfriend_

_Every moment that we spent_

_Has made my timeline so complete_

_The time we share in our present_

_Has made the past so obsolete _

_But in my heart I long for more_

_A newfound future in our midst_

_Fuelled by the love and passion formed_

_From our first volcanic kiss_

_But one thing I have mentioned not_

_But for our future needs to be_

_Don't worry dear, I've not forgot_

_My darling, will you marry me?_

_Oh Hershel, let's get married! I know you meant to ask me at the restaurant the other day, I know what that box in your desk drawer is and most importantly, I know that you love me and I love you and I've been thinking! There's this beautiful house in Hertfordshire called the Sunshine Estate. It's in the heart of St Albans, right by Twilight Forest, a monumental coppice associated with mystery and wildlife and home to the infamous Gossamer Falls! Oh goodness, Hershel, it's so perfect I could cry! It's roughly a twenty minute drive from London and a five, ten minute walk from the most adorable school: Happy Oaks Academy._

_I know that this must be a lot of information to get in one letter but I needed to tell you. I love you, Hershel and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and being loved by you; with or without the hat on._

_I simply cannot wait to see you, although you're most likely reading this in my absence, I'll be able to tell once you've read I, I feel like I have this connection with you, I know what you're thinking and I hope that I'm right in you thinking 'yes'!_

_I am forever in your debt, Hershel, for you are indubitably the most wonderful man to enter my life. _

_Love always,_

_Claire_

Hershel pressed the letter to his heart and looked up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and as a small, dainty tear trickled down his cheek, he sighed deeply and whispered, "Yes".


End file.
